Back in the Game
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: TV Prompt Challenge - Emily was the last person he expected to hit on in the darkness of a club.


Challenge Info at: . net/forum/TV_Prompt_Challenge/59537/

(watch for spaces in the address)

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**BACK IN THE GAME**

PROMPT: A Race Through Dark Places (Babylon 5)

Hotch had no idea what on earth he had done for the curse Derek had just dropped in his lap. Since his team had discovered his one-year-anniversary of his divorce, they seemed to have jumped on the bandwagon to try and find him at the very least a date. But this time, Derek had gone both above and beyond the call of the duty the team had taken on, and taken him to the last place he would ever expect to find a woman. More so, he felt very much like the odd ball out as women approached Derek left and right.

Then she caught his eye. Black curls and a tight black dress with a frill on the bottom of the skirt and showed each one of her curves to utter perfection. His habit was blonds, but there was something alluring about the woman. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her as she easily got the bartender's attention.

He had no idea what made him take the chance, but he slid off of his barstool and wove through the crowd until he was right behind her. "May I?" He vaguely indicated the bartender.

"Thanks," she said turning with a smile. Then her jaw dropped open. "Hotch?"

He recognized the smile before anything else and almost hit himself. "Emily."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sipping her drink and still allowing him to throw a few bills on the counter. He would have felt bad going back on paying for her drink, especially since he knew her.

"It's apparently Morgan's turn to play matchmaker."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "He's terrible at it. So is Garcia."

"I've learned both," he said with a wry smile.

She threw back her head and laughed heartily. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He wasn't anymore. Emily hadn't judged him or watched him like a hawk after the explosion and in the almost-two years since they'd done nothing but become closer. It was scary sometimes how in tune they were with each other. They paired up together as much as possible because Hotch found that the one teammate that he hadn't trusted in the beginning was the one he trusted most with his life.

And then something had shifted. He pretended he didn't do it. He pretended he didn't watch her whenever he could, pretended that her smile didn't warm his stomach. He pretended that the smell of berries that assaulted his senses when he was near her didn't calm his nerves. He pretended his attraction to his subordinate wasn't growing. Heck, he preferred to pretend it didn't even exist.

He cocked his head to the side. "You haven't taken your turn."

She snorted inelegantly. "You're old enough to one, pick when you're going to date, two, if you even want to date and three, who you want to date. You don't need my help."

And that was one of the reason why they'd become such close friends. There was absolutely nothing expected of him except the same she expected from herself. And she never assumed he needed help unless he asked for it. "Think you can tell Morgan and Garcia that? And Dave, while you're at it."

"I'm not sure Rossi would quite accept a rebuke from me, but I can give it my best shot," she said with a cheeky grin. "You drinking?"

"I just bought your drink, Emily and I'm not letting you return the favour." He liked the idea of paying, even if it was just for one of her drinks.

She laughed. "How do you feel about dancing then?"

That took him by surprise. He was torn as he glanced out at the movement the club-goers classified as dancing. "Like that?"

"Well, the music isn't exactly the waltz, Hotch," she pointed out with an amused arch of her eyebrow.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Forgive me if I'm not up to date on what the kids are doing these days."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult," she quipped. "But I'm up to teaching if you're up to learning. It's not even close to as difficult as the waltz."

He pondered the idea for about a split second. As dangerous as it was to have her pressed as close against him as this version of 'dancing' required, he wasn't' an idiot. He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity especially since it would be under the guise of dancing. "If you're up to teaching, I'm up to learning."

Emily slid her glass onto the bar and grabbed for his hand. He cursed his heart as his pulse jumped at the contact. Had it been any other place, there was a good chance his heart rate wouldn't have jumped, but in this club, where half of the point for the people in the crowd was to go home with some stranger. She finally stopped, turning to face him. He stood awkwardly in front of her and she rolled her eyes taking a step closer. Her hands went to his hips.

"It's easy. Feel the beat, move to the beat," she yelled over the music.

She pushed on his hips in time with the beat, guiding him. He was glad because his mind was not on how to move himself, but on how her hips were starting to subconsciously move with the beat. Hotch debated stepping closer like the other couples in the audience, losing hold of his reasons for why he couldn't. Who cared? But he didn't want to put that kind of pressure on her. They were friends, they'd been friends for a long time and he didn't want to ruin it by suddenly acting on the desires he thought he'd kept hidden.

But that didn't mean the crowd couldn't make the decision for him. As they danced – and Hotch felt he was getting a hang of it – she kept moving closer and closer as the crowd pressed on both of them. Her arms moved to his shoulders as they pressed closer together and his wrapped tentatively around her waist. When she didn't scold him he tightened his arms. The people pushing on them didn't matter anymore, he was pulling her closer of his own free will.

And she was moving with him of her own free will. Hotch had been out drinking with the team enough to know when Emily was anything less than in charge of her faculties and he doubted the spark he could see in her eyes when they met his had anything to do with alcohol. And he wasn't sure if the flush he could just barely make out in the dark of the club was solely from exertion of dancing.

"Hotch…"

Her voice was breathy in his ear and he found himself closing his eyes. There was no way this was real, it couldn't be real. Because the real Emily wouldn't sound so breathless and the real Emily wouldn't be moving her hips against his the way she was. He was sure she could feel every inch of him against her and there was no way that she wouldn't understand how attracted to her he was this time. His hands moved down from her waist to bracket her hips, though when she was fitted as close as possible his hand went around her back resting at the bottom curve of her back. Her eyes were sultry when they met his and it gave him enough courage to lean down and touch his lips to hers. Emily mouth parted almost immediately under his and he took advantage of it.

She was the first to pull away and he knew her heaving chest had nothing to do with dancing. "I have to confess something."

"Oh?"

"Derek mentioned he was bringing you here tonight."

Hotch pulled his upper body away from hers in surprise. "What?"

She pulled his head back down so she could say the words into his ear. "Derek mentioned that he was bringing you here tonight so I went digging in my closet for the sexiest thing I could find. Then I made my way here and waited."

She'd waited for him to show up. God, that was hot. "You…"

She chuckled low in his ear. "You think I haven't noticed? You think I don't feel it?"

Well she could now, there was no doubt about it. He kissed her fully, holding nothing back. She arched into him. She pulled away breathlessly and he was confused until she spoke.

"We're leaving."

He was perfectly okay with that. "I drove."

She kissed him again. "Perfect."

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_**I keep telling myself I'm going to write the 'Pom Pom' prompt from this set and I can't seem to do it! AHHH!!!**_

_**Actually, in my defense, I was working on it until this little plot bunny bit me in the bum. **_


End file.
